to the seat across from his. Azure and gold cushions lined the bench, and she took the fluffiest one, arranging it beneath her. Magenta salvia stalks filled the table’s center, scenting the briny sea air with an intoxicating aroma no perfumer could ever truly capture.
“They’re Neri’s favorite flower,” Eros explained before lifting a thick brow. “Tea?”
She glared at the carafes steaming from a nearby platter, trying and failing to hide her distaste.
His chuckle echoed off the walls, causing a half-asleep attendant leaned against a pillar to jump to attention. “I never acquired a taste for the stuff either, even though all royals of the Broken Three are expected to drink nothing but the finest tea herbs, imported from all over Solissia. The cost of that assortment alone could feed five families.”
She watched quietly as he poured her a cup of dark coffee, waving away the bleary-eyed attendant who tried to help. Her tongue prickled as the rich, loamy coffee aroma filled the air. They drank in silence, Haven not even caring that the liquid scalded her tongue.
When she downed enough coffee to feel semi-alive, she lifted her gaze to the king. “I know why you wanted the alliance. It took me a while, but I figured it out.”
“No doubt with the help of a certain Shade Lord.” Eros regarded her quietly over the rim of his mug. Then he set down his cup, flicked his fingers, and sent the attendants scurrying.
Once the last servant disappeared, she said, “How long have your children had magick?”
He blinked, a long callused finger tapping his coffee mug. Then he exhaled and looked out into the city. “My son showed signs first, about a month ago, right after the Praetori Fiernum ended. My daughter’s powers awakened more recently.”
The timing of that was . . . interesting. “Do you have a magickal lineage?”
The shake of his head was subtle, his gaze still snagged on some invisible point in the city. “None.”
Eros was technically from a House of Nine, but many of the houses had fractured long ago, with hundreds of lesser nobles claiming Nine blood without ever having a prayer of magickal abilities.
“Then . . . where?” And yet as soon as the question left her lips, she knew the answer. “Neri. How closely is she related to Bell?”
When his eyes met hers, they looked almost umber in the dawn’s growing light. His nostrils flared delicately. “King Bellamy’s grandfather, the former ruler of Ashiviere, is her father.”
Haven blinked, trying to fit that into what she already knew about the Ashiviere court—which was basically nothing. Contact with Penryth had ceased after Bell’s mother’s death, the nearby kingdom separated by a vast swath of wild woods and treacherous mountains.
“Technically, she’s his bastard child, born in secret to one of the royal seamstresses. Neri’s mother fled as soon as she realized she was with the king’s child. It was rumored Prince Lorenth Ashiviere was consolidating power in a bid for his father’s throne, and he would not have taken too kindly to a sibling with potential for magick, bastard or not.”
Lorenth. Where did she know that name? Haven toyed with a golden tassel on her seat cushion, wishing she’d gotten more sleep last night. “Lorenth . . . that’s Bell’s . . .”
“Uncle,” Eros answered, popping an olive into his mouth and chewing slowly. “Once King Boteler cut off ties with the kingdom, Lorenth soon came to power. He only recently passed, giving the kingdom over to his only son, Dram. As far as he’s aware, his grandfather’s magickal bloodline only seeded in Bell’s mother.”
Haven traced a swirl of gold in the table with her finger. This meant Neri was Bell’s aunt, even though she couldn’t be more than seven or eight years older than him, and her children his cousins. She had recognized the resemblance earlier but now, knowing what she did, it was glaringly obvious.
And if she could see it . . .
“You’re afraid Renk will figure out the connection eventually,” Haven said slowly, watching his expression, “and try to take them.”
His eyes flashed with anger. “King Renk’s hunger for magick is insatiable. We think he’s somehow carving out the magick of the children that come to him and then killing them, either in the process or to hide what he’s doing. Although I suspect Stolas already informed you of this information.”
She sucked in her lower lip, having the sense at least to appear contrite for the small betrayal.
“It’s no matter,” Eros continued, waving his hand in